Not an Option
by allihearisradiogaga
Summary: Agents Birkin and Muller are on a mission when things go south. Jake/Sherry whump oneshot.


"Okay, Jake, you need to cover me." She breathed lightly into the mic of her comms, trying to keep as quiet as possible while still being heard by her partner, on the other side of the warehouse.

"Wait, Sherry!" His voice was too _loud_ , and she cringed a bit. He realized this, too, because it lowered as he continued. "There're too many of them. If we go around…"

"We don't have time," she said. "We need to take them out _now_." She took a deep breath and calmed herself before she raised her voice. "Cover me, _please_. I'm going in whether you do or not."

"Sherry—"

She was already moving, though, and he pulled himself up onto a dumpster against the wall, in a slight cover and slightly higher position, and readied his gun. He watched as she dashed from her position in the opposite doorway to another behind some crates. She drew her own gun and peeked over from her hiding spot before dashing out around the left side of the makeshift barricade. She was halfway across the open area between her and the far door when the two men guarding it noticed her, and shouted.

"Hey, you!" The guards raised their guns, but the one standing closer to Jake took a bullet from Jake's gun a moment later, and staggered backward.

"Jesus _fuck_!"

The other guard turned to help his fallen ally, just as Jake had hoped he would, but when Jake took another shot that went whizzing past his head, the guard turned back to Sherry, leaving his fallen comrade to cover his left arm with his right hand to try to stop the bleeding. He fired a few shots from his gun, but Sherry had taken cover behind another stack of crates.

"Come out!" shouted the guards, as if that were an enticing option. Sherry felt her heart beating in her chest, and tried to regulate her breathing. She lifted her gun, about to fire a warning shot back to the guards, but Jake was already on it, firing another toward the guard who was still standing.

"Sherry, you alright?" Jake's voice came in over the comms as he fired his gun again, narrowly missing the guard's head, sending bits of concrete from the wall spraying out around him.

"Yeah," she said, "yeah, I am. Let's go." She stood from her hiding spot, firing another shot just over the guard's shoulder as she dodged his own shot, ducking to the side and charging toward him. She was not alone, though, because Jake had come out from his hiding spot toward the door on the far wall as well. He fired one more shot as he went, causing the guard to switch his attention from Sherry to Jake, only burying a few bullets in the floor of the warehouse floor. While he was distracted, Sherry burst forward the few steps she had left and tackled the guard to the ground, knocking his gun out of his hands, and back toward the door behind him.

Sherry grunted as she struggled with the man below her. She was strong, but he was big, and he put up a hell of a fight. She pulled back her hand and punched him in the eye, knocking his head back against the floor. His eyes widened, and then cleared, focusing on Sherry. He threw his arms upward and grabbed her knocking her down to the floor next to him as he rolled on top of her, pinning her down.

Meanwhile, Jake approached them, holstering his gun as he did. He was too close to make an accurate shot without compromising Sherry, as well. He stepped toward where she and the guard were wrestling on the ground, but was distracted when the other guard, whose arm was still bleeding and hanging limp at his side, reached and pulled his legs out from under him, knocking him to the ground. He felt the air leave his lungs, but did not have time to catch it again before the man lugged himself on top of Jake, using his one good arm to try to pin him down. Jake knew that there was no point in waiting for it, so he pushed upward with his back, knocking the man off of him. He was glad he had done this when he saw the knife in the other man's hand—he had been pinning him to finish him off with the knife.

The guard tried to get up again to attack Jake, but Jake was on his feet too quickly, slamming his boot down on the guard's wrist. The guard's hand released the knife, and it clattered to the floor. Jake crouched down, grabbing the guard's hair and slamming his head back against the concrete hard enough to knock him unconscious.

Now, Jake could turn his attention to the struggle between Sherry and the guard. The guard had Sherry pinned down, and his arms were trembling as he tried to get his hands around her neck. She was holding him off, but Jake wasn't sure how long she would keep it up, considering her size disadvantage in the fight. He readjusted his grip on the knife in his hand, and took a step toward them. He crouched, and readied the knife.

"Ready, Sherry!" he said, and she grunted in return. He swung his arm down as she pushed up with all of her might, knocking the guard off of her and out of the way. Jake's knife continued its swing, however, and buried itself in her chest. She gasped and coughed, some blood bringing a sharp metallic taste to her mouth. Jake crouched next to her, putting his hand under her head, cradling it.

"You…" started the guard she had knocked off of her, but he didn't get any further than that. Jake pulled his gun out of its holster and fired it at the guard without even bothering to look, and reholstered it as the body slumped to the ground.

"Sherry?" asked Jake, his voice coming out even weaker than he thought it would have. "Sherry, are you…?" He was going to ask if she was okay, but he could see from the knife in her chest that she wasn't. He could see from the knife in her chest _that he had put there_ that she wasn't.

She began to choke up a response, but he shook his head. "Don't say anything, I'll—we'll get you out of here, don't you worry about that." Her eyes were closing now, and he gave her head a gentle shake. "No, no," he said, feeling the panic rise in the back of his throat, "don't do that, no—Sherry, stay awake with me for now."

Jake cast a glance around the room, but there was nothing that could help him help her, nothing that he could use to get her out of there any fast. He reached for the cell phone in his pocket and fumbled with it in his gloves for a moment before using his teeth to rip the glove off so he could dial the encrypted line. He spit the glove out, tasting Sherry's blood on it. He could see the blood staining her shirt around the wound, and he carefully held her head steady, above where the knife was still sticking out of her chest.

"Agent Muller? What is your situation?" The voice on the other side of the line seemed to be much too calm to him—this was the emergency line. They knew that if he was calling, it was not good news.

"Sherry is hurt. Very hurt. We need evacuation." His eyes flitted from her wound to her face and back again to the wound. She was too pale.

"That's a negative."

Jake didn't have a response to that. It wasn't the answer he had been expecting. He didn't think that he would need to expect anything _but_ an affirmative, especially considering the circumstances. "Excuse me?"

"The mission right now cannot be compromised. There are other agents in the field, and were we to extract Agent Birkin at this time, the entire mission would be at stake."

"We're talking about her _life_ here, if you weren't clear on that." Jake could feel the heat in his chest as the anger rose in him, but his eyes kept on Sherry. He had to stay calm for _her_. He had to keep her alive.

"I am sorry, Agent Muller, but if you want an extraction of Agent Birkin, you must complete it yourself, _after_ your primary objective is fulfilled."

"That's bullshit. I'm not leaving her behind."

"I wasn't giving you an option," replied the voice behind the phone.

"Neither was I," said Jake, pressing the _end_ button on the phone and throwing it against the wall. He left it there, holding Sherry's head up just a bit higher and using his other arm to cradle her, pull her nearer to him. "Hey, Supergirl," he said, "are you still with me?"

She coughed, and he nodded, trying not to focus on the flecks of blood on her lips. "That's my girl," he said, glancing around them again. "I'm going to get—I'm going to get you out of here. Just…" He paused, and looked upward to the bare, dirty high ceiling of the warehouse. "…hold on." He moved from his knees into a crouch, careful of how he shifted Sherry's weight, and gently got to his feet, scooping his arm under her legs to carry her, princess style. He could feel the blood against his shirt as he cradled her, and was tempted to pull the knife out. He knew it would only cause more bleeding, though, and simply held her close. "I'm sorry," he said, quieter, and turned back, the way they had come, and started to walk, carefully as he could, as not to jostle her. He felt a well of emotion in his throat and chest, and held it back. He focused on her, and forced a smile. Her eyes, just hazy slits now, focused on him, and that was enough. He moved with her in his arms, steadily, toward safety.


End file.
